Only Child Blue(s)
by vlnelson55
Summary: John and Blue Cannon argue. What will be the outcome?


**ONLY CHILD BLUE(S)** by Vicki L. Nelson

**Chapter 1: Trouble Is My Middle Name**

It was another scorching hot day, temperatures well above 100 degrees. To make matters worse, there had been no rain for some time now. Arizona was in the middle of a drought and all the watering holes of any significance had gone dry. As a result, all of the High Chaparral's cattle had been driven southeast to Sandy Lake.

The fierce desert sun beat down incessantly, making for long days and short tempers. Everyone was cross, most especially John Cannon, owner of the ranch. He took it out on everyone, but the person who took the brunt of most of it was his son, Billy Blue.

Blue was the only child of John, a tow-headed youth, just out of his teens, and he was in trouble. In fact, he had been for some time now. It seemed like everything he touched lately went wrong somehow. If a stranger were to ask him what his full name was, he would probably answer, "William 'Trouble' Cannon," since trouble seemed to be his middle name lately.

He was standing in the side yard under the shade of the lean-to. He had gone there to get out of the blistering rays of the sun, but mostly he was trying to stay out of Pa's way.

Blue was looking back over his right shoulder at something when his uncle came up from his left and clapped him on the shoulder. Blue, who hadn't seen him coming, jumped like he'd been scalded.

"Hey there, Blue Boy!' drawled Uncle Buck. "Whatever are you doin', anyway?"

"Been in the doghouse so long, I'm lookin' to see if maybe I sprouted a tail!" muttered Blue, sullenly.

Buck threw back his head and laughed out loud. Reaching out, he lifted a lock of his nephew's sun-streaked hair and peered under it. "Nope," he said, laughing. "Don't appear like you growed any floppy ears, either!"

Blue, who was in absolutely no mood to be teased, angrily pulled away from his uncle's grasp. "That ain't funny!" he protested, heatedly. He also felt cut to the quick as he could usually count on his Uncle Buck to take his side.

"Why sure it is, Blue Boy..." exclaimed Buck. "I know you and your daddy have been buttin' heads a lot lately, but it'll pass. He's just worried 'bout the High Chaparral and all."

"So what else is new? That's all he ever worries about. 'Sides, does he hafta take it out on me?" questioned Blue.

Buck lifted an eyebrow and looked at his angry nephew, who stood in the yard, arms crossed and glaring at his uncle. "Well, you have been in a lot of trouble lately, I'll admit," said Buck. "But there's a reason why you and your pa are always at odds with each other."

"Which is?" pursued Blue.

"You know what the trouble with you is?" asked Buck, and then hurried on before Blue could open his mouth to protest. "The trouble with you is you just cain't see how much alike you and your daddy really are..."

Blue's mouth fell open and he gaped at his uncle in utter amazement. "We are not! We're nuthin' alike, him and me!" he protested, angrily. "How can you even think that?"

Buck said nothing more, simply shrugged his shoulders, winked at his nephew and turned and walked away. Blue grumbled to himself under his breath and then yelled angrily at Buck's retreating back, "I'd say it was **you** that's getting' more and more like him every day!"

Buck didn't turn around, merely waved at his nephew over his shoulder and headed towards the bunkhouse, hoping to get in a poker game with the few remaining hands left at the High Chaparral.

Blue stood rooted in one spot and did a slow burn. His uncle's attitude had amazed him. He turned and started angrily around the corner of the house. Blue then ran full-tilt into his step-uncle, Manolito Montoya, who had just exited the ranch house.

"Whoa, muchacho! Where is the fire?" he asked, reaching out a hand to steady Blue who had been rocked back on his heels by the impact. Manolito peered into Blue's frowning face which was as dark as a thundercloud and said, "Uh oh, hombre! Why the long face?"

"Oh, it's Pa, for one thing. He's forever doggin' me and lately it seems I can't do nothin' to suit him. And now Uncle Buck is sticking up for him, too!" retorted Blue.

"Well, I hate to say it, amigo mio, considering the mood you are in, but this morning when your cinch broke and you fell from Soapy, you came close to being trampled. Luckily, I happened to be right there to pull you up behind me or we might not even be having this conversation right now. Your papa was mad and rightly so, you could have been killed! How many times has he told you, told all of us, to be sure and check our gear thoroughly before riding out?"

Blue knew that Mano was right and it made him even madder. He knew he should have checked his gear before riding out that morning, but there simply hadn't been time. He had taken a chance that everything was fine. Of course, it had been just his luck that it wasn't!

Trouble was Blue hadn't gotten much sleep last night. He had retired early enough, but he had gotten some ideas for sketches he wanted to try out first. It had been rather late when John went up to bed and noticed a light burning under his son's bedroom door. He knocked softly, peeked his head through the door and asked Blue if he intended to go to bed that night. He reminded Blue that they were all to be up early next morning to round up the remaining strays so they could be driven out to Sandy Lake. Blue, humiliated at being treated like a little kid, had brushed John off and assured his father that he would get enough rest in order to arise in plenty of time. John looked at him for a minute, then turned and closed the door behind him. Blue had meant to go to bed soon after that, but he got involved in his art and lost all track of time. It was way after midnight when he blew out the oil lamp and climbed wearily into bed.

It seemed barely five minutes later when Blue awoke with a start. "What time was it? What woke him up?" He didn't have to wait long to find out. He could hear John's angry bellowing coming from the bottom of the steps. He was yelling at Blue to get up and come downstairs to breakfast or else he would come up there and haul his son out of bed.

Blue had overslept! He jumped out of bed and stubbed his toe against the leg of the side table. Tears of pain rushed to his eyes and he bit his lip to keep from cursing out loud. He grabbed his injured foot and hopped across the room. When the pain subsided, he grabbed his clothes and threw them on, popping a cuff button in the process. By the time he had accomplished all this, he was really running late! As he turned and raced for the stairs, he remembered the icy pitcher of water Pa had poured all over him to teach him a lesson the last time he had overslept and hurried even faster.

Of course, he was late to the table and Pa had growled at him, setting the tone for the entire day. Blue then had to gulp down breakfast which made him queasy and then spent the entire morning playing catch-up. He didn't want to make Pa even madder by being late out to the range and rode out without checking his gear and, as a result, had gotten into even deeper trouble with Pa, who had yelled at him in front of everyone.

Blue, remembering the events of that morning, stared coldly at Mano and barked, "I know, I know, but I was rushed this morning...Hey, not you too? Boy, how many fathers do I need, anyway? Well, one's enough, I can tell you! In fact, one's too many most times!" And, with that, he rushed into the house and slammed the front door behind him.

Manolito lifted his eyes heavenward and threw out his hands. "Ai yi yi," he said. "Young people nowadays, they are so touchy!" He then headed for the bunkhouse to see if Buck had been able to scare up a poker game.

Inside the house, Blue raced up the stairs and into his room. He threw himself face down on the bed and thought about the events of the day. He figured the bedroom to be a safe haven from all the criticism that everyone seemed intent on leveling at him lately.

A little over an hour later, supper was called. Blue sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He really didn't want to go downstairs and face everybody, especially Pa. He really wasn't that hungry, anyway. He stared into space and tried to think of a good excuse to miss supper. He couldn't come up with an excuse good enough, however, especially one that would sound plausible to John. Knowing that his absence would be too hard to explain, he sighed and trudged reluctantly down the stairs to the evening meal.

He purposely picked a chair as far away from Pa as possible and sat down. He accepted a plate of food and began to eat in silence. The food felt and tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He kept his eyes cast downward and concentrated on the plate of food in front of him. He didn't see the frown his father directed at him nor did he notice the uneasy glances that Victoria, Buck, and Manolito exchanged with each other. John was mad at Blue, and Blue was mad at the world. Any pretense at polite conversation was soon abandoned and the entire family finished their meal in uncomfortable silence.

After supper, Blue excused himself from the table. Since he had no chores left to finish that night, he went up to his room to think. He knew he wasn't good company and he wanted to be by himself. Blue liked being left to himself to work out his problems; he always had, even as a little boy. Ma had said that Blue was introspective which had come about as a result of his being an only child. He lay down on the bed, crossed his arms behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling.

"One good thing," he thought to himself. "At least I'm going up to Sandy Lake tomorrow to spell some of the guys." All of the cattle had been driven up there because of the drought and, as a result, there wasn't much left to do around there. Most of the men were camped up at Sandy Lake. Joe and Pedro had been there the longest and John was sending two men up there in the morning to spell them. Blue would be one of the men sent to relieve them, at least he figured he would be. Pa hadn't really said who he was sending up there, but Blue thought it just had to be him, for one. He figured Pa would send him to Sandy Lake if for no other reason than to get Blue out of his hair and put as much distance between the two of them as possible.

Blue wanted to get up early, long before anyone else, to get his supplies together and give his gear a good going-over so as not to repeat the same mistake he had made earlier. He figured to have Soapy saddled up and all his gear together, ready to ride out. Why, when Pa saw that Blue was all prepared for the trip, why he'd just have to let him go...wouldn't he? Blue knitted his brows worriedly and tried to reassure himself. His eyelids began to droop; it had been a long, horrible day and Blue was exhausted. Without meaning to, he fell asleep in his clothes, on top of the bed covers. It was not to be a deep, restful sleep, however, but a troubled and restless one.

Blue awoke with a jolt..."What time was it? He was relieved to note that it was still dark in his room but that was no indicator of the time. He began to rise and discovered that he'd fallen asleep without changing out of his clothes. "Oh, well," thought Blue. "It'll just save me some more time, is all." Still and all, he felt disoriented and incomplete, not a totally good omen. He crept over to the oil lamp which hung on the wall and striking a match, lit the wick which cast a warm, golden glow that cut through the gloom. He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time: 4:05 am. Good, he hadn't overslept. Blue paused to look at the gold watch a moment before stuffing it back into his pocket. It had belong to his Grandfather Cannon, whom he didn't remember as he had died while Blue was still an infant. Pa had given the watch to Blue on his 16th birthday and it was one of his most cherished possessions.

Blue took some money out of the top drawer of his bureau. He gathered up some clothes to take with him and grabbed his old, worn green poncho off of the peg that hung by the door. He leaned over and picked his boots up off the floor. At least he hadn't slept in those, too! He went to pull them on and decided against it. Pa could be a light sleeper on occasion, better to take no chances. If Pa woke up now, Blue would have too many questions to answer. So, with his clothes in one hand and his boots in another, Blue crept to the door of his room. Turning the knob carefully, he peeked his head around the door and looked down the dark hallway. "Good, no one's up," thought Blue. He tiptoed down the hall, being especially careful when passing in front of John and Victoria's room. If anyone asked Blue what he was doing, he would say that he was being cautious...not sneaky. At least, that's what he told himself.

Blue crept down the stairs and dropped his boots and clothes by the front door. He headed towards the kitchen. Let's see, he would need coffee, sugar, bacon, hardtack and, oh yeah, some jerky. "That will do for food," thought Blue, "but I also need a coffeepot, skillet, and some utensils." Blue wasn't real familiar with the layout of the kitchen since it was Victoria's domain, but by rifling through the various cupboards, he was able to find what he needed.

He exited the kitchen and deposited the foodstuffs and utensils beside his clothes and boots. He then walked over and carefully opened up the door to the gun rack and removed his rifle, a Winchester Model 1873 with a hand-rubbed oak finish. Blue had saved up for months to buy it and just last week was able to put down the final payment in Tucson. Blue then grabbed the scabbard for his rifle plus plenty of extra cartridges and bullets for his handgun: a nickle-plated .45 cal. 1873 single-action Peacemaker model.

Blue laid his rifle down and placed the bullet and cartridges beside the ever-growing pile of supplies. He picked up his hat and let it hang down his back by the hat strings. Finally, he picked up his holster and revolver and checked to see if all the chambers were full. Satisfied, he strapped on the holster and tied it down to his right leg. He bent down and picked up all his gear. He straightened back up and went to open the door. "Darn!" he'd forgotten to put his boots on. So Blue dropped the pile of supplies once more and sat on the bottom step to pull on his boots. He went to pick up the pile once more and then figured he'd better open the door first. He did so, then picked up his gear and stepped out onto the porch. "Now, how was he gonna close the door with his hands full?" Blue thought a minute, then reaching back with his foot, he hooked it around the door and giving it a little tug and a hop, was able to shut it with a small slam.

Blue staggered down to the corral under the weight of his gear. He supposed he should have made two trips, but he didn't want to waste time. He deposited his gear by the corral fence and then gathered up his bridle, saddle, saddle blanket, lariat, and canteens. He then walked back to the corral fence and dropped the newest additions to the ever-growing pile and hurried off to complete his morning chores. There weren't too many and Blue hurried through them.

About thirty minutes later, he finished up and raced over to the corral and whistled to Soapy. The palomino came over to Blue and Blue scratched him on the nose. "You're probably as anxious as me to get away for awhile, ain't ya, Soapy ole boy?" asked Blue. Soapy, as if in answer, nickered and jerked his head in an up-and-down motion. Blue laughed and inserted the bit in Soapy's mouth, slipped the halter over his head and adjusted the straps over his ears. He threw the saddle blanket and saddle over Soapy's back and tightened the cinch. He then bent down and inspected every inch of his gear and was relieved to find everything in perfect condition. He filled the saddlebags with the cooking utensils, clothes, and extra cartridges. He strapped the rifle scabbard onto the saddle and tied his bedroll to the back of the saddle. He tied a knot into the sack of food and hung it over the saddle horn. He grabbed the four canteens and, hurrying over to the well, drew up a bucket of water and filled them. He crossed back over to Soapy and hung them over the saddle horn as well. He picked up his lariat and tied it to the strap on the front of his saddle. He was finally all set to go. He smiled with relief, but one second later, his smile faded. Blue snapped his fingers. "Shoot, he'd forgotten one last chore!" He hurried over to the woodpile. He wanted every last one of his chores finished so that Pa have absolutely no excuse not to let him go. Picking up the ax, he began to chop some wood to replenish the woodpile.

A short time later, the front door opened and John Cannon stepped out onto the porch. The sun was just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon and John could make out Soapy tied to the corral fence, saddled up and looking ready for a trip. John was puzzled; was Blue going somewhere? Just then Blue hurried around the side of the house with an armload of wood. Spying his father, he dropped the armload of wood and hurried over to where John stood, a look of confusion on his face.

"Morning, Pa," he said eagerly. "I'm all ready to ride up to Sandy Lake!" John peered at his son, a look of understanding dawning on his face, which was immediately replaced with a dark scowl.

"What are you talking about, Boy? Who said you were going to Sandy Lake? I'm sending Buck and Manolito; you're not going any place. You're staying here because here is where you're needed!"

Blue tried not to raise his voice, but was unsuccessful. "What?" he questioned, indignantly. "Why...why can't I go? I'm all ready to go and you don't need me here. There's nothing to do here what with the cattle all up at Sandy Lake. 'Sides, I think you'd be glad to send me off for a while. Come on, Pa! I really want to go up there and help out!"

"Oh, you want to go? Well, that's different, then," exclaimed John. Blue, amazed by John's uncustomary change of heart, smiled broadly and John continued on. "Well, by all means then...whatever Blue wants, Blue gets, right?" Blue's smile faded; he hadn't recognized his father's sarcastic tone at first.

John continued to berate his son. "Boy, you oughta realize by now that we don't always get what we want in life. Now, I'm telling you...you're not going! You're needed here and that's final! Oh, and another thing, I think you need reminding about just who's boss around here. You seem to be forgetting that a lot lately!"

John stared coldly at his son. Blue was furious; John knew his son well enough to recognize all the signs. Blue had gone into a fighter's stance and his eyelids blinked rapidly, while his ice blue eyes threw off hot sparks. John was beyond caring, however, as he was plenty angry himself.

Blue reacted hotly, "How...how could I forget who's boss around here when you always seems to be crammin' that fact down my throat?"

"Careful, Boy!" growled John, low and menacingly. "You're about to step over the line, and believe me, that's a line you really don't want to cross! Now, I'm through jawin' with you about this. You unhitch Soapy 'cause I've got plenty of work for you to do!"

Blue glared murderously up at his father, but wisely bit his tongue to keep any more angry words from bubbling to the surface. He couldn't win; why try? He turned from John and stomped away. His face glowed as hot as the Arizona sun. He couldn't remember the last time he was this furious with Pa! It was humiliating; Pa treating him like a little kid just because Blue had made a few mistakes lately. Heck, no one was perfect, 'cept maybe Pa. He sure thought he was, anyway! It was a long way across the yard and with every step he took, Blue got madder and madder and the set of his jaw grew more and more determined. Pa had always said Blue was mule-headed, too mule-headed for his own good and always had been, practically since birth. Well, Pa was about to find out just how stubborn his son really could be!

Blue wasn't really sure what had possessed him to defy his father, but he soon found himself up in the saddle and wheeling for the gate, hell bent for leather. He leaned low over Soapy's neck and urged his mount forward. As Blue passed under the High Chaparral sign, he could hear his father yelling at him but he couldn't make it out for the angry pounding in his ears. He lit out for the desert, kicking up dust behind him and soon disappeared over a rise.

John stood rooted in one spot, like a statue carved in stone. He stared out at the desert at the spot where he last saw his son. He was dumbfounded at Blue's outright disobedience and he thought he would never again be as angry in his life as he was that moment.

John heard a voice at his shoulder, but didn't turn around. Buck and Manolito had come down to the corral to saddle Prince and Macadoo for the trip to Sandy Lake. Their preparations for the trip had been made on the evening prior as John had informed them that they were to relieve Pedro and Joe up at Sandy Lake. Both men had stepped out of the house seconds after the heated exchange between father and son. Manolito headed for the corral while Buck ambled over to see what his older brother was staring at.

Buck took one look at his brother's stony face and asked, "What's wrong, Brother John?"

John growled, "Oh, it's Blue. When I informed him that he wasn't going to Sandy Lake, he jumped up on Soapy and lit out, the darned fool kid!"

"Oh," said Buck, rubbing his forehead and appearing only a little surprised. "Want me to go after him?"

"No, I do not. There isn't time! I can't spare you or anyone else to go chasing after him. He's made his decision, and by God, he's going to live with it! But if he is at Sandy Lake when you get there, I want you to send him back here, either under his own steam or thrown across the front of a saddle. I don't care how you do it, but I want him back here! That young man and I are going to have a long overdue talk!"

Buck raised his eyebrows. "Whew, well okay, Brother John. But I hope by then you've calmed down some, for both your sakes!"

John merely glared at Buck and snapped, "You and Mano, get going!" He turned and walked towards the house and noticed that Victoria stood on the porch, a look of concern on her face. John sighed; he knew he would have to explain the argument to Victoria. She seemed to be beginning to view Blue as a son and while that was good, Victoria seemed to side with Blue more than him whenever the two of them argued. He would have his work cut out for him, trying to persuade Victoria to see his side.

Buck walked down to the corral to join Mano and explain the situation. Buck saddled Prince and together the two men headed out to Sandy Lake.

**Chapter 2: Now What?**

Blue wasn't really sure where he was going, but he rode Soapy hard for several miles to put as much distance between himself and the ranch house as possible. When he was sure he wasn't being followed, he reined Soapy in and let him rest. Blue waited for his heart to stop racing, then slid down off of Soapy and reached for one of the canteens hanging from the saddle horn. He twisted off the cap and grasping it under his chin, he poured some water into his cupped hands and offered it to Soapy. He deserved it, after all, after the paces Blue had put him through. When Soapy had drank his fill, Blue wiped his hands on his britches and tipped the canteen up to his lips. The sun was rising in the sky; it was going to be another scorcher. As usual, there were no clouds in the azure sky and the desert was still. Now that Blue was taking the time to think, he was stunned by what he had done. He had been furious and had reacted without thinking things through. Blue had quite a temper and when he was really furious, he seemed to lose himself in a mist. Then, when things had calmed down, he was at a loss as to what to do. Pa had said over and over, "Act in haste, repent in leisure." Blue shook his head sharply, "Doggone it, he wasn't about to start thinking that Pa was right in all this!" Still, Blue wasn't exactly sure what to do. He guessed he could go on out to Sandy Lake, that's what he had set out to do. But no, he couldn't do that; that's exactly what Pa expected him to do. Why he'd probably go up there and drag Blue back to the High Chaparral by his ear. Blue just couldn't risk that, it would be too darn embarrassing!

"Boy, Manolito sure had the right idea, anyway," thought Blue, recalling a conversation the two of them had a few months back. Blue, curious, had asked Mano why he lived at the High Chaparral and not at Rancho Montoya, his father's ranch. Mano had looked him in the eye and told him that at Rancho Montoya, he was his father's son and was looked at differently. At the High Chaparral, however, he was just another ranch hand. There were no lofty expectations of him and he felt a freedom he had never known at Rancho Montoya. Blue didn't quite understand Mano's reasoning and asked Mano if he didn't want to inherit Rancho Montoya someday. Mano told him 'no' and Blue was taken aback. Mano then asked Blue if he wanted to inherit the High Chaparral one day and become a rich and powerful patron. Blue had answered 'yes' immediately, without hesitation, that of course he did. And there, standing in the pale glow of the moonlight, Mano's face had been unreadable.

Now Blue wondered whether he had said that then to convince Mano or himself. He had really been sure that he meant it at the time, but now he was not so sure. It would probably be a long time before he inherited the High Chaparral, and at the rate things were going, he and Pa would probably kill each other first! Besides Blue was starting to feel as if the High Chaparral was something Pa used as a club to beat him over the head with. To tell the truth, Blue was feeling kind of tired of the High Chaparral and the importance it seemed to hold in John's life. In fact, he suspected that if Pa were forced to choose between the ranch and his only son, Blue would come out on the losing end of the bargain.

Well, if he wasn't going to go to Sandy Lake, what would he do? Blue, who had been leaning up against Soapy, deep in though, suddenly straightened up and snapped his fingers. His blue eyes opened wide and a broad grin lit up his face. He had just come up with a brilliant idea! If Mano could work for John, then why couldn't Blue work for Don Sebastian? Why, Rancho Montoya was enormous and always in need of hands. Blue could go down there and ask him for a job! He figured Don Sebastian would turn him down at first, but with a little wheedling, could probably be persuaded to change his mind. Don Sebastian and Mano were a lot alike in one respect; they both had a wicked sense of humor. Don Sebastian probably wouldn't admit it, but he would probably be secretly amused by the fact that the only son and heir of Big John Cannon were working for him instead of his father. Yep, that's what Blue would do...he would head for Sonora to see Don Sebastian. Sure, Pa was bound to find out eventually, but what could he do about it? Blue would be twenty-one, the age of consent, in six short months, so really what could Pa do? Go down to Mexico and drag him back to the High Chaparral? Chase after him with a harness strap? "Naw, he wouldn't...would he?" Blue smiled ruefully and knitted his brow in perplexion. "Hmm, Pa could be pretty unpredictable if you got him mad enough!" He supposed that Pa could try, but Blue sure wouldn't make it easy for him. Pa would have to chase him up, down and all around the High Chaparral plus catch him first! Besides, Blue figured he had the advantage of youth, to boot.

Blue mounted up and laughed to himself at the picture he had conjured up in his mind. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and urged Soapy onward. He was a little nervous about his decision, now that it had been made. He knew full well that the territory between the ranch and Sonora wasn't very safe, what with the ever present threat of Apaches, comancheros, and banditos. 'Course, there was a temporary peace treaty between the Apaches and the white settlers, but there were always renegades looking for trouble. He also knew that the border towns were notoriously wicked and dangerous for the lone traveler, especially one as young as himself. As much as Blue resented being viewed as a kid, he wasn't stupid. He knew that he was still pretty young and naive in the ways of the world. Besides, with that darned baby face of his, he looked even younger than his twenty years. Blue was also uneasy about the fact that Pa had forbidden anyone to make the ride between the High Chaparral and Rancho Montoya all alone.

"Oh, well," thought Blue. "I'm already in deep trouble, may as well go all the way!" Blue had made his decision and he would stick by it, but he was uneasy, just the same. He would have been even more nervous had he been aware that he was being followed and had been for some time now.

**Chapter 3: Sandstorm and Sandy Lake**

Buck and Manolito were headed for Sandy Lake. They could tell by the set of fresh tracks made by a single rider that Blue was also headed for the lake.

The air was still, too still, and the sun beat down unmercifully. The two men had traveled a little more than an hour's time when they detected a change in the atmosphere. Manolito was the first to realize what was happening. "Get down!" he screamed at Buck. "A sandstorm is about to hit!" Both men scrambled down from their horses and whipping off their bandanas, tied them over the horses' noses and gripped the reins tightly. They pulled their hats down low and burrowed into the collars of their shirts and prepared for the onslaught. The sandstorm hit from out of the east and the swirling sand obscured their vision and blasted every inch of their exposed skin. Buck and Mano held tightly to the reins of the frightened horses and stood rooted to the spot. There had been tales of men who, in the past, had been foolish enough to wander around in the middle of a sandstorm and whose bodies were never found again. It was very disorienting being caught in one of these sandstorms and time lost all meaning. What seemed to last forever, in reality, took only a matter of minutes. After the storm had abated, both men removed their hats and stared dully at each other. They had managed to withstand the onslaught with no major damage, only two frightened horses that had to be calmed before continuing on with their journey.

"Are you all right, compadre?" asked Mano.

"Yeah, yeah...I think so, anyway," answered Buck. "But answer me this, do I look as bad as you?"

"No, amigo. You look much worse!" laughed Manolito.

"Well, I guess we better get a move on if we want to make Sandy Lake on schedule," drawled Buck. "Uh oh, look at that!" he exclaimed, pointing in the distance.

Mano squinted, shrugged and said, "Look at what? I see nothing."

"That's jest it, Blue Boy's tracks have vanished. They was blown away by the storm!" exclaimed Buck.

"Well, so what?" questioned Mano. "We know that he was headed for Sandy Lake."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Do ya suppose he was caught in this storm, too?" asked Buck of his friend.

"Quien sabe? But if he was, his basic good sense will override his anger. He knows what to do in a sandstorm. Do not worry, he will be at Sandy Lake when we arrive," Mano assured Buck.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," said Buck, quietly. "We better get going." And, with that, the two men dusted themselves off, mounted up, and headed towards Sandy Lake.

Between both Blue and Soapy, the water from one canteen was gone and the second canteen was nearly empty. It was so hot and dry. Blue's hatband was soaked with perspiration and he kept snatching if off his head to wave it in front of his face, trying to stir up a breeze, any breeze. He had shed his leather vest and wool shirt long ago and was riding in his undershirt. Blue had pushed up the sleeves in an effort to get cool. He had tried to conserve his water supply, but he kept getting so parched! Blue knew where there was a small underground spring located at the foot of the Sierrita Mountains which shouldn't have been affected by the drought. Leastwise, he hoped not. There he could fill the canteens and he and Soapy could drink their fill. As he headed towards the spring, he could see the heat shimmering off the desert floor. It was so quiet out on the desert alone. Blue's attention was diverted by a roadrunner darting out behind an ocotillo. He looked up and to the east and noticed a cloud of sand kicking up swirls of dust and debris. "Sandstorm," remarked Blue to himself and was thankful for the fact that he had missed it. If he had headed for Sandy Lake as was his original plan, then by his calculations, he would have been caught right in the middle.

"See, I did make the right decision after all," said Blue to Soapy. He considered this a sign of good things to come. Blue rode for another hour and then came upon the spring. He hopped down off Soapy and grabbed the two canteens, filling them up with the cold, blue water. He splashed his hot, flushed face with the water and dipped up a handful of it. He let the water roll over his thick, blonde hair and down the back of his neck. He then cupped both his hands, leaned down, and scooped up handfuls of water which he drank down thirstily. Blue noticed his reflection in the water. "Hmm, he had looked better!" In fact, he looked a lot like some disreputable saddle tramp in his undershirt, with a sunburnt nose and tousled hair. "Well, travelin' can be tiresome on a body," thought Blue. He rose wearily and slipped off Soapy's bit and bridle and made a halter out of his lariat. He let Soapy drink his fill of the water and then graze a while. Blue sat down on a rock, chewed on a piece of jerky and hardtack, and gazed absentmindedly into space. It felt good to rest, but he still had a long distance to cover and could ill afford to rest for long. He hoped to make the little town of Pan Tak before nightfall. He slipped the bit and bridle back onto Soapy, coiled his lariat, and attached it to the saddle. He mounted up again and headed in the direction of Pan Tak.

Buck and Manolito arrived at their destination shortly after one in the afternoon and rode up to the encampment. The first person they met up with was Joe Butler, who rode up to them at a trot and greeted them with a broad grin. "Hey, you two, 'bout time! I'm so tired of campin' out that getting' back to the High Chaparral and the bunkhouse will seem like a vacation!"

Without bothering to say hello, Buck abruptly asked, "Where's Blue Boy?"

Joe's smile faded and was replaced with a look of confusion. "What do you mean, where's Blue? Why back at the High Chaparral, I suppose."

"No, he ain't!" retorted Buck. "He and Big John had a big fight and Blue lit out for here."

"Well, all I know is, he never showed up," replied Joe.

"I knowed it, I knowed it...I jest knowed it!" exclaimed Buck, hotly, preparing to head back in the same direction he had just come from.

"Wait a minute, Buck," said Manolito, laying a hand on his friend's arm. "What can you do now? We did not see him on the way here and it is growing late. Let Joe and Pedro return as they are supposed to. They can inform Big John of Blue's absence. Who knows? Perhaps Blue had second thoughts and returned home or doubled back and went on to Tucson. We're not even sure he was headed this way, after all. John will send word back here. It will do no good to Blue or to anyone else if you go off half-cocked on a wild goose chase. Besides, John is already angry with Blue for his defiance. If you, too, go against his wishes, he will be fit to be tied!"

"I ain't afraid of Big John," growled Buck.

"Si, I know that you are not, Buck, but calma...calma. Let Joe and Pedro return home. After all, they are fresh for the ride."

"Okay, okay," sighed Buck. "I know what you're sayin' makes sense, 'course I'll worry all night. But if I ain't heard nothin' by mid-morning, Big John or no Big John, I'm lookin' for that boy, even if I have to turn all of Arizona Territory upside down to do it!"

"Si," replied Mano, "and I will help you." Turning to Joe, he said, "You and Pedro ride out of here as soon as you can be ready."

"Sure thing, Mano," said Joe, preparing to ride back to the ranch. He threw a look at Buck and said, "Don't worry, Buck. Blue will be okay."

"Yeah, yeah," said Buck tiredly.

Joe and Pedro were ready in record time and headed for the ranch in order to be there by nightfall. "Pedro and I will keep an eye out for Blue on the way back, don't you worry," said Joe, while Pedro, beside him, nodded his head vigorously up and down.

"Gracias," said Mano, giving them a wave. Buck said nothing, merely nodded his head after the two departing ranch hands. "Come on, compadre," said Mano, throwing an arm over Buck's shoulder. "There is much to be done."

Horse and rider trudged on, bound for Sonora. Blue could tell by the landmarks he passed that it would not be possible for him to reach Pan Tak by nightfall and he would have to make camp out on the desert.

It was growing cooler as the sun began to set. Blue was getting edgy as he had not been able to find a good spot to make camp for the night. He could hear a lone coyote howling off in the distance and it sent shivers down his spine. It was a mournful, lonely sound that never failed to affect him. Blue shivered again; he was desperate to settle in for the night as he knew it was unsafe for him to be out on the desert by himself when darkness fell. Blue was tired, hungry, cold and sore and wanted to be down off Soapy. He also figured that Soapy was just as tired of carrying Blue as Blue was of riding him. He had almost despaired of finding a campsite when he spotted the entrance to a box canyon to his right. The mouth of the canyon was partially obscured by a clump of mesquite and Blue had been lucky to spot it at all.

"Well, what do you know?" thought Blue. "Maybe my luck is beginning to change, after all!" He got down from Soapy and cautiously led him up to the mouth of the canyon to investigate. It seemed the perfect place to make camp for the night. It had high, steep sides and the only entrance to it seemed to have gone undetected by any other humans in the past, which Blue took as a good sign.

Blue led Soapy into the back of the canyon, reached into the saddlebag and pulled out the worn green wool poncho which lie atop his gear. He shrugged it on over his head. Although the poncho sometimes scratched the back of Blue's neck, he was grateful for the warmth it provided in the hours before and after the sun came up and went back down. His mind then began to race with all the preparations he needed to make for the night. First and foremost, he needed to see to the care of his horse. He uncinched the saddle, removed it from Soapy's back, then lugged it over and set it down on the ground. It would serve as his pillow that night, not that he intended to sleep, however. He removed Soapy's bit, bridle and saddle blanket, leaving only a rope halter on Soapy which Blue had fashioned out of his lariat. Blue still had plenty left to do, but Soapy must be settled first before he could begin. He knew that out here, a man's life could often come down to just two things: his gun and his horse. A man would do well to remember that always. In fact, Blue had had that lesson drummed into his head at an early age, not in the wilds of Arizona but in the relatively civilized state of Missouri where he and his parents had lived during his boyhood. Concern for animals hadn't been a difficult lesson for Blue to learn because he loved animals and cruelty of any kind towards them sickened him. He had never been intentionally cruel to any of the farm animals, only occasionally careless in his treatment of them. Pa had taught him a lesson about that, however, when Blue was eleven and old enough to know better.

The Cannons had a small farm in Missouri, and when John returned from the war, he and Blue had been kept pretty busy running it. It was a beautiful, crisp, clean Indian Summer day. The sun was so warm and the sky so blue, when John had given Blue a break from his usual chores to attend to the business of boyhood. John knew that winter would soon be upon them and his son's time outdoors would soon be curtailed. Blue had been both surprised and delighted by his father's uncharacteristic generosity. He had jumped, hopped, and whooped with delight and had taken off for the woods, his dog Dusty racing at his heels. Their farm was bordered from the back by the woods and it was Blue's favorite place to explore. No limits were set on him except an admonition to be home in plenty of time for supper.

He and Dusty entered the woods at a run. Blue knew just how far into the woods he could go; Pa had taken the time to show him. He had never gone further than the big rock that Pa had pointed out to him as his boundary. He had never dared to because Pa had made it quite clear to Blue the consequences that would befall him if he ever dared to disobey Pa in this matter. It was in the days right after the Civil War and many dangerous men roamed the countryside. Still, there was plenty of woods left to explore and Blue and Dusty spent most of the day roaming through it, looking for arrowheads, buried treasure, and all the things that a young boy imagined to lay in wait for him. The floor of the woods lie covered in leaves of crimson and gold that crunched underfoot and Blue enjoyed scuffling through them. Tired of hunting for treasure, he piled them up and jumped into them, over and over, scattering them far and wide. He gathered them up and threw them at Dusty, who barked furiously at his young master. Blue's peals of laughter mixed with the frenzied barks of his canine companion.

Blue had been having so much fun that he had lost all track of time. He noticed that the light in the woods was beginning to grow dim and, in panic, he jumped up and raced for the house, Dusty following close behind. He was afraid that he might be late for supper and Pa was pretty strict about that rule. Blue raced across the grass as fast as his legs could carry him and burst into the kitchen, heart racing and gasping for breath. He noticed, with some relief, that he hadn't missed supper after all and that Pa was nowhere in sight. He went to wash up and traipsed back to the table and plopped down in his chair. It was then that he noticed that there was no place set for him at the family table, only for his mother and father. He had looked at his mother in puzzlement and asked her if something was wrong. She had simply looked back at him and then told him that his father wanted to talk to him.

Blue gulped; he knew that usually meant trouble. His mind raced frantically as he tried, in vain, to figure out just what he might have done wrong. He hadn't been able to come up with any answers when his father entered the room and took his place at the head of the table. John said nothing for a minute, merely looked at Blue and then asked him whether he had forgotten anything. Blue had simply stared at his father, heart in mouth, and shook his head mutely. John then reminded him that he had forgotten to feed his horse, Rusty, that day. Blue gasped in realization and jumped to his feet, ready to race out to the barn. John stopped him in his tracks by saying that he himself had fed Rusty in Blue's place. Blue had apologized profusely and told John that he hadn't meant to forget about Rusty; it was just that he'd been busy having fun and didn't remember about his horse. His father told him that regardless of whether he had or had not meant to forget about Rusty, the results were the same. Rusty had gone hungry and Rusty depended upon Blue to take care of him. So John had instructed Annalee not to set a place for Blue in order to teach their son a lesson in responsibility. Blue had turned to stare, open mouthed, at his mother. She had looked at him sympathetically and shook her head, but did not intercede in his behalf for once. Blue had gone to bed hungry that night. It was a harsh lesson to have to learn, but Blue remembered it every time he was tempted to be careless, especially when caring for the animals he had been entrusted with.

Blue caught himself daydreaming and shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. He was satisfied that Soapy had been sufficiently taken care of and hurried to settle himself for the night, as well.

The first thing Blue needed before it got too dark was some wood for a small campfire. Leaving Soapy tied to a juniper bush, he went back to the mouth of the canyon to gather dry mesquite branches and tinder. Grabbing up an armful of wood, he hurried to the back of the canyon and carefully stacked the wood into a well-ordered pile. He reached into his saddlebag and removed a box of matches. He struck the match against the side of the box and it burst into flame. Stooping down, he carefully lit the stacked wood in several places. He began to blow at the starting flames in short puffs of breath. A small wisp of smoke began to rise up and a flame burst forth. Soon, a fire began to blaze and Blue sat back on his heels and warmed his hands. He went over to the saddlebag again and removed his cooking utensils and foodstuffs and one of the canteens. He poured water into the coffeepot and set it in the fire. When the water began to boil, he would brew some coffee and, after he had his first cup, he would fix himself some supper.

Blue spread his bedroll down on the floor of the canyon and retrieved his rifle from the scabbard. He sat down upon the blanket and rested his back against a boulder. He stared into the flames of the fire and waited for the water to boil. The light was beginning to fade and Blue had to admit he was a little apprehensive. He had only once before been out on the desert alone at night and he was smart enough to realize the perilous predicament he was in. He stared, once again, into the flames of the fire and his eyes began to droop. "Boy, it had been a long day!" He caught himself yawning and shook his head, "This would never do!" He had to stay alert. Without meaning to, he began to think of home and his father. "Was Pa still mad? Was he worried?" Blue thought with longing of his warm, comfortable bed and the fireplace in his room. He wondered when he would sleep in his bed again. "Probably be a long time, if ever." Blue caught himself and berated himself for even thinking of his bed at a time like this. He blinked his eyes and, snatching off his gloves, stuck his fingers in his mouth and then rubbed them across his eyes, trying desperately to stay awake. "Come on, water...boil!" thought Blue, desperately. "If only I could get a cup of coffee, I'll be all right." He just couldn't fall asleep, he couldn't! And, though it was the very last thing that Blue wanted to do, his head began to nod. A horned owl began to hoot mournfully up above him, and Blue's head dropped to his chest and he began to doze.

Joe and Pedro wasted no time getting back to the High Chaparral. It had been an easy, effortless trip and no difficulties had arisen. They rode in through the gate together, about an hour before sundown. Vaquero signaled their return and John hurried to meet them. He frowned when he saw there were only two riders returning.

"Where is Blue?" he demanded. "Why if he stayed up at the lake against my wishes, I'll..."

"Blue's not here?" asked Joe.

"Of course, he's not here!" barked John. "Why would I ask you if he was?"

Joe and Pedro exchanged apprehensive glances. "Uh, Boss," explained Joe. "Blue never made it to Sandy Lake."

"What?" said John, the color draining from his face.

"No, sir" said Joe, uneasily.

John just stared at his two ranch hands. "Well, you two get settled...I, um..." his voice trailed off and he turned towards the house, leaving Joe and Pedro to stare after him.

"What do you suppose he will do?" asked Pedro.

"I don't know. Guess we'll find out if he wants to tell us," said Joe. "Come on, let's take care of our horses and unload our gear."

John walked to the house. What was he going to do? Where was Blue, anyway? If he hadn't gone to Sandy Lake, where was he? Had he doubled back and gone into Tucson instead? John didn't know, but his hands were tied at this point. It would soon be dark and he had no men to spare. At first light, John would have to ride to Tucson to look for Blue if Blue had not returned by then. He, and he alone, was responsible for his son's angry departure. John would not send anyone else to Tucson, but would make the trip by himself. All of a sudden, he felt old and tired and his usually confident stride faltered as he crossed the porch and entered the house where Victoria was anxiously awaiting the news from her husband.

**Chapter 4: A Deadly Mistake**

Blue awoke with a start. "Where was he?" After a few seconds, realization set in. "How long had he been asleep? Boy, that was a stupid thing to do!" Blue thought. Still groggy, he wondered what had woke him. He was soon to find out, however. He heard the click of a .45's hammer being drawn back and slowly turned his head to the right to find himself staring into the muzzle of a revolver. So, that was what woke him up, Soapy's nickering at the intrusion of the stranger. Gulping nervously, he slowly lifted his eyes to look into the face of his assailant. The stranger, who went by the name of Jack Mills, was a big man with shaggy, brown hair and was probably around 45 or 50 years of age. His clothing was tattered and looked and smelled as if they hadn't been washed in years. The man seemed to be in no better condition than his clothes. He had a wild look in his eyes and something about him signaled that he wasn't quite right in the head. Blue knew he was in serious danger.

"Well, well, well," said the man, with a sneer. "Sleeping Beauty awakes. And, what do we have here? Why, it's just a kid and one who's all alone, too! Tsk, tsk, tsk. I wanna thank you, kid, for bein' such a sound sleeper. Ya really helped me out! Didn't anybody ever tell ya how dangerous it is to fall asleep when you're all by yoreself? Ya need to keep one eye open at all times. Oh, don't think about goin' for your guns 'cause they're over there." The man nodded his head in Soapy's direction and Blue could see that his horse was saddled and ready. He could see his rifle resting in the scabbard and supposed his gun was lying in one of the saddlebags.

Blue tried to call the man's bluff and said desperately, "No, no. I ain't alone. I was just sent on ahead to make camp. My friends are right behind me!"

The man laughed and said, "Oh, that's rich, kid! I been followin' you for hours now and ain't seed hide nor hair of your 'friends.' You wouldn't be lying to ol' Jack now, would ya?"

Blue winced. He had been so busy concentrating on the destination which lie before him, he had completely forgotten to watch his back trail. Blue bit his lip and felt a knot in his stomach. "What, what do you want?" he asked and his voice sounded funny, even to his ears.

"Oh, not much. Just yore supplies, your weapons, and your purty horse there. Oh yeah, and I wanna thank you for this. I always wanted one of these," said the man, drawing something from his pocket and dangling it in front of Blue's face.

Blue started; it was his grandfather's pocketwatch! The man continued on. "Guess ya know that horse stealin' is a hangin' offense, so I can't be in any more trouble if I kill ya as well, now can I? Nothin' personal, just don't need no witness, is all. Pity, though, 'cause I can see yore jest a baby who probably ain't had much change to experience life yet!"

Blue's heart raced and he thought of his father. Wild animals would probably scatter his remains and no one would ever know what happened to him. Pa would go to his grave wondering what had happened to his son. Blue felt hot tears rush to his eyes and he shut them tight, waiting to hear the last thing he would ever hear in his short time on earth: the click of a revolver's hammer, hitting home. Instead, he heard the whine of a bullet whiz past his ear and the man dropped his revolver in pain. Blue froze, then rolled to his left and scrambled to his feet. He noticed the man's gun hand had gone limp and was bleeding and Blue whipped his head around in confusion. He then noticed a dark-haired boy step around Soapy, out of the gloom and into the firelight. The boy stood behind the man and trained a rifle at his head.

The boy said, "I wouldn't go for that gun, mister. Leave it right there." Without taking his eyes off the man, he then addressed Blue. "Listen, kid...I want you to kick that pistol over to me."

Blue frowned in confusion, but did as he was told. The boy set his right food down on the revolver and held it to the ground. He then addressed the unkempt stranger, once again. "I oughta put a bullet in ya, but I'm givin' you a fightin' chance to get outta here. But you better put as much distance between yourself and here 'cause next time, I won't be so charitable."

"Wait a minute," protested Blue. "He's got my pocketwatch!"

"Okay, mister...Keep them hands in the air while the kid here gets what belongs to him."

Jack Mills kept his hands in the air and glared at Blue. Blue cautiously crept over to the man and reached carefully into his shirt pocket and drew out the precious heirloom. He then scurried back to safety, never once turning his back on the man.

"Now, get goin', mister!" demanded the boy.

"You can't turn me loose out here on the desert this time o' night with no gun for protection!" whined the man.

"Guess you shoulda thought of that before you tried to put a bullet in the boy's brain here. Now git!"

The man hopped up on his tired-looking nag and threatened the two boys before riding out. "Yeah, you think you're pretty tough standin' there behind that gun, but you just wait. We'll meet again when you ain't got the advantage over me!"

"Yeah, well, maybe next time you won't be so lucky," promised the boy. And with that, he pumped the rifle, put his finger on the trigger, and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He squinted his right eyes and carefully took aim. The man reeled around and took off out of the canyon at a dead run.

**Chapter 5: Matt**

Blue hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath during the entire exchange. He exhaled with a sigh and wiped his forearm nervously across his forehead. He turned to the young stranger and gratefully said, "Whew, thanks! You really saved my skin just now!" His words died off when he saw that the barrel of the rifle was now pointed at him. "Hey, what gives?" he protested.

"Who are you and what are you doin' here? You look kinda young to be out on the desert by yourself," said the boy.

"I could ask you the same thing," said Blue, indignantly. "You look to be about my age, too."

"Listen, kid. I'm the one askin' the questions, in case you'd forgotten. I'm the one with the gun, not you. I guess that gives me the advantage over you," said the stranger.

Blue sighed, "Okay, okay. M y name's Bl...uh, William Cannon. Well, Blue Cannon of the High Chaparral ranch." If this fact had any significance to the young stranger, he gave no indication of it.

"Okay, William 'Blue' Cannon...What are you doin' out here all alone?"

"It's a long story and I won't be any good at tellin' it, what with a rifle pointed at my head!" said Blue. The young stranger looked at him carefully, and then lowered the rifle slowly.

"Okay," he said, "I got all night."

Blue looked at him and sighed with relief. "You got a name?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah. It's Matt...Matt Mason."

"Well, Matt...Matt Mason. How about some supper. I tell stories better on a full stomach," said Blue, extending his hand to Matt.

Matt looked at Blue and then shook Blue's hand. "Well," he said, "I could eat."

Blue walked over to Soapy and reached into the saddlebags for the food and supplies. He walked over to the fire and started the coffee and began to fry up some bacon in the cast iron skillet and Matt offered to unsaddle Soapy while Blue got supper. "It ain't much," apologized Blue, ruefully. "But, it's all I got; you're welcome to share it."

If Blue had been taught responsibility to animals by Pa, then Ma had taught her son generosity.

It was Thanksgiving of 1858 and Blue had turned five the month before. Ma had invited their neighbor, the Widower Wiese, over for the celebration. The three of them were sitting around the breakfast table when she informed them of that fact. Blue had protested, "Oh, Mama...he eats too much!" Annalee had turned to him and scolded, "For shame, Billy, for shame! Mr. Wiese is all alone since his wife went to Heaven and probably never gets a decent meal. You should give thanks that you don't have to do without!"

Blue could still remember how stunned he had been. Growing up, harsh words from Ma were so rare, that when they did come, they had more of an impact and hurt worse and lasted longer than the worst whipping from Pa.

John had looked over at his small son and noticed the quivering bottom lip and the two big tears that slipped silently down Blue's cheeks. Pa had said, "Oh, Annalee. Billy's just a little boy. Don't be so hard on him." Blue had looked up at his father's words with surprise and slipped down off his chair and went to stand at his father's knee. John leaned over, picked him up, and sat him on his lap. Blue leaned back against John's chest and, together, they faced Annalee.

Annalee had stood, hands on hips, and eyes flashing. "I don't care, John," she said. "He is not too young to learn charity!"

John had replied, "Yes, you're right, of course, but Billy's young, he'll learn." And with that, he patted his small son on the back.

Mr. Wiese had come over for dinner and Blue had been on his best behavior. He didn't say one word of protest, even when their neighbor ate his third piece of pumpkin pie. Annalee had noticed and smiled at him. By the end of the meal, she was her old self again. Blue could still remember the feeling he had gotten when he discovered a new ally in Pa. It had always been Ma who had taken his side when Pa had scolded him. Now, here it was, fifteen years later, and he had never forgotten that moment when the tables had been turned.

Blue was snapped back to the present by a voice at his back, "Hey Blue, smells like the bacon's beginning to burn!" called Matt.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," said Blue, reaching to snatch the skillet off the fire with his gloved hands. Matt had his own utensils and soon the two young men were making a meal of bacon, jerky, hardtack, and coffee. Blue thought it to be a pretty poor meal, but Matt dug in greedily.

"Looks pretty good to me," said Matt and Blue stared at him in amazement. Matt attacked the food like he hadn't eaten in years. After the meal had been consumed, the two boys sat in companionable silence as they sipped their coffee.

"Well, Blue Cannon," said Matt. "How's 'bout that story you promised me?"

"It's pretty long and involved, sure you want to hear it?" asked Blue, doubtfully.

"Like I told you before, I got all night."

**Chapter 6: Only Child Blue**

"Well okay, but don't say I didn't warn ya," Blue sighed. Actually, it would be kind of nice to unload on somebody and Uncle Buck and Mano had only so much time and limited patience. Matt looked to be about Blue's age, maybe he'd sympathize.

Blue began again, "Well, like I already told you, my name is William Cannon and my Pa owns the High Chaparral. Ever heard of it?" Matt merely shrugged and Blue looked at him curiously, then continued on. "Well, anyway nothin' I ever do is good enough for Pa. He's always on my back about something. I'll be twenty-one in six months, but he treats me like some little kid. Seems he'll never see me as grownup. Maybe it's because I'm an only child, I don't know...Say Matt, you got any brothers or sisters?"

"Yeah," said Matt. "I'm the oldest of seven."

"Seven kids? I can't even begin to imagine what that's like; can you tell me?"

Matt said, "Oh, no. This is your story, remember?"

Blue continued on. "Well, I had to leave the ranch. Pa just doesn't seem to want to let me grow up. Still, he expects so much from me, much more than I can usually deliver. He's piled all his eggs in one basket with me being his only child and heir. I don't think I'll ever measure up to his expectations."

Matt looked up at Blue in the firelight and said, quietly, "So...you're an only child, huh? That's a rarity, I'll admit. Still I've run into one or two in my time. My experience with only children seems to be that they're usually spoiled."

Blue reacted hotly, "Spoiled? Spoiled? Why, I've heard that all my life! What I want to know is how can we be spoiled when we got two parents watching our every move like hawks, waiting to swoop down on us when we mess up? And remember, there's no one else to share the blame or the punishment when something goes wrong or gets broken!"

"Well, okay. You got a point there. But bein' an only child must have its advantages, true? You've never had to share a bed or a room or wear hand-me-downs, have you? Or had your favorite toy busted up because your little brat of a brother was mad at you?" questioned Matt.

"Well...no," admitted Blue.

"Hey, listen. I got you off track now, didn't I? Go on with your story, Blue," said Matt.

Blue started again. "Well, anyways, Pa's been on my back all week long and he's always ordering me around. 'Do this, do that, don't do this...' "

"Let's see if I got this straight?" interrupted Matt. "Your father owns a big spread, has plenty of ranch hands, probably, and you're the only one he orders around?"

"Well, no...but it's different with me!" protested Blue.

"Really? How? Gosh, I did it again. I promise to keep my mouth closed until you're done," said Matt.

Blue looked at Matt suspiciously, but continued on warily. "I got up real early this morning, did all my chores, and got ready to ride out to Sandy Lake to relieve a couple of our hands. 'Cept, for no good reason, he wouldn't let me go. As usual, he treated me like some kid and ordered me to stay. Well, I got mad at him and his stubbornness, so I lit out. I was gonna ride to Sandy Lake, but changed my mind. Now I'm riding to Sonora to see if I can get a job as a ranch hand at Rancho Montoya. The owner, Don Sebastian Montoya, is the father of my stepmother and..." Blue trailed off. Now that the words were out of his mouth, they sounded a little silly – even to him.

Matt stared at Blue, but didn't say anything though it looked like he wanted to. "Well?" asked Blue.

"I don't have much to say 'cept do you think your pa's opinion of you has changed since this morning?" questioned Matt.

"What do you mean?" asked Blue, suspiciously.

"Well, you said he treated you like a kid and that was part of the problem. Do you think he sees you any differently since you ran off this morning?" Blue just stared coldly at Matt, who continued on. "Running away is for kids. It's harder to stay and fight."

"Don't call me a kid. I ain't no kid!' snapped Blue.

"Okay, okay. You're not a kid," said Matt, throwing up his hands in surrender.

"Now, you've heard my story; let's hear yours," said Blue. "How old are you and why are you out here all alone?"

"I turned twenty-one last month and like I told you, I'm the oldest of seven."

"How many brothers do you have?" asked Blue, eagerly. "I always wanted a brother!"

"Four brothers and two sisters...Say Blue, didn't you ever want a sister?" chuckled Matt.

"Not really, I wanted a brother. I begged and begged for one until Pa finally told me to stop. I used to think I'd take a sister if I couldn't get a brother, but Molly Simpson changed my mind about that, once and for all."

"What do you mean?" asked Matt.

"Well, let's see, I was about...um, four or five? Ma and Pa had friends who lived in town and Ma invited them for dinner. They had a little girl about my age named Molly. She had ribbons and curls and all the grownups loved her, 'cept I didn't much care for her. Anyway, they were coming over for dinner and Ma made me take a bath and it wasn't even Saturday! She slicked down my hair and I had to wear my Sunday clothes. I hated those short pants, scratchy black wool stockings and the shirt that buttoned up to my neck and always choked me. 'Course I liked the copper-toed boots, but the good didn't outweigh the bad. Then, to top it off, Ma made me sit on the sofa and I couldn't move a muscle until the Simpsons came over. By that time, I wasn't feeling any kindlier towards Molly."

"Well, the Simpsons finally came over and Molly was all frilly and girly. She looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She had all the grownups fooled, they thought she was so sweet. Made me sick to my stomach! But as soon as the grownups turned their backs to us, she kicked me in the shins and pulled my hair. So I did the same to her! Well, she went to screechin' and wailin.' I looked up just in time to see Pa reachin' for me. He drug me out of the parlor, up the stairs to my room, and refused to listen to my side of the story! He said 'a gentleman never hits a lady, no matter what.' Well, to make a long story short, I missed supper that night and it was a little uncomfortable sittin' down to breakfast next morning. After all that, I never wanted a sister, ever again. Girls are too sneaky!"

"Well, you were right coming to that conclusion 'cause my sisters were a lot like Molly," laughed Matt.

"Oh, oh. Now, I'm the one interrupting your story," apologized Blue.

"Well, that's rough, you bein' treated like a baby by your pa, but that's just something I can't relate to. Know how long I got treated like a baby?" Blue shook his head.

"The first ten months of my life, then came along Kevin, followed by the twins, Cory and Clay, then came Anna, Ricky, and finally Julie. I was expected to grow up fast and I did. You say it's tough bein' an only child, and I suppose that's true enough. But, when you're the oldest, not only do you get blamed for everything you do wrong, but you also get blamed for any trouble the younger kids get into. 'You're the oldest. You should know better. You should set a good example for the others.' Know how many times I hear that growin' up? Too darn many, I can tell you!" and with that, Matt trailed off.

Blue looked at him quietly and said, "But why did you leave?"

Matt looked at him sharply and said, "Because I was told to."

Blue looked at him in surprise. "What? Why?"

"Because Pa told me I was a full-growed man and there wasn't enough food for all of us. He said he'd provided for me long enough and now it was time for me to provide for the family. He told me to go out, make my way, and send back money to help feed my brothers and sisters."

"But, you'll go back, right?" pursued Blue. "I mean as the oldest, the place will be yours someday, won't it?"

Matt gave a sarcastic snort. "Nah, it won't. We gotta couple of hard-scrabble acres up Oracle way, which ain't good for nuthin' but growin' weeds. 'Sides, Pa's so deep in debt, the bank will get it for I do, not that they'd really want the worthless place."

Blue, who couldn't quite meet Matt's eye, said nothing. Matt was silent for a moment, then continued on. "You know, Blue, I didn't let on when you first mentioned the High Chaparral that I'd ever heard of it, but of course I had, who hasn't? It's the biggest, most profitable spread in these parts, probably all of Arizona Territory, most likely...Heard of your pa, too. Seems he's respected by most everyone. Guess he cast a pretty big shadow, don't he? Must be kinda hard followin' in his footsteps, ain't it?" Blue merely nodded and Matt went on.

"Yep, people respect John Cannon and they respect you, too 'cause your his son. Your pa is known to be an honest, fair man and a real solid citizen by most everyone. And you, when you go to town, you don't have to hang your head. You can hold your head high and look everyone in the eye. You can be proud of the name 'Cannon.' "

Blue looked up in surprise. Matt took no notice, but continued on soberly. "But when you're the son of the town drunk and local good-for-nothin', people judge you by your last name and not your character. You don't know what it is to be ashamed of your family name. You don't know what it's like to go into town and hear the ugly whispers and to feel like a whipped dog every day of your life. Yes, I'm glad to leave and go where no one knows my name!" said Matt, fervently, a lock of dark hair falling in his eyes. "Listen, Blue. The High Chaparral will be yours one day, won't it? I'll bet you never had to go to bed hungry, wonderin' where your next meal was comin' from. Maybe your life ain't perfect, but whose is? I'd a whole sight rather be in your shoes than mine. I'm sorry if I ain't got a lot of sympathy for you, but it's real hard for me to understand your problem."

Matt trailed off and looked over to Blue, who whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry for," said Matt. He then laughed tiredly and said, "I think one of the reasons you left your home was you was tired of bein' lectured and here I am, barely older than you, and soundin' just like your pa. I guess if you was to punch me in the nose right now, I wouldn't blame you."

Blue looked up at Matt and said quietly, "No, I don't want to punch you in the nose. You said what you thought you needed to say, fair enough...Say, Matt. What will you do come morning?"

"I'm not sure. Probably ride out and try to find a job somewhere that will pay a decent wage. Know of any place 'round here that could use some help?"

Blue looked at Matt and said, "If you ain't set on any place in particular, why don't you ride with me to Sonora? Don Sebastian could surely use two hands, easy as one."

Matt looked over at Blue and said, "I ain't got too many options. If you think it's a good idea, I'll gladly ride along with you."

"Then it's settled," smiled Blue. "I'm glad for the company."

Matt yawned, then threw more wood on the fire which was beginning to burn low. He stretched out his arms and said, "Man, I'm bushed! It's gotta be awful late. You wanna take first watch or should I?"

Blue shook his head and said, "I'll take it. I'm not really tired right now, anyway."

"Okay," said Matt. "Just be sure to wake me in a while so's I can spell you."

"Yeah, sure," said Blue, absently. And with that, Matt went to retrieve his bedroll. He spread it on the ground, not far from Blue's. He laid down and turning his back to Blue, he pulled his blanket up to his ears. "Night, Blue."

"Night," replied Blue. Within a matter of minutes, Matt was fast asleep. Blue could tell by his slow, steady breathing that Matt was out like a light.

Blue sat back, rifle close at hand. He was too keyed up for sleep and would not make another mistake like the one that had nearly cost him his life earlier that evening. Blue drew up his knees and rested his chin upon them. He huddled under his poncho for warmth. The back of the canyon was bathed in an unearthly glow from the light of the full moon and, somewhere in the distance, a lone coyote sang mournfully. Blue shivered and his mind was jumbled with confused thoughts. He stared pensively into the hypnotic flames of the campfire and began to think on his life...

John walked through the front door and was immediately met by his wife, Victoria. "John," she said. "I heard Vaquero signal the arrival of riders. Has Blue returned?"

"No, Victoria," replied John. "It was Joe and Pedro back from Sandy Lake."

"Then where is Blue? Did he remain at the lake?" she asked, curiously, knowing full well how John would feel about this.

John looked at Victoria and hesitated, "Well, no...he never showed up there."

Victoria's brown eyes flew wide open and clasping her hand over her mouth, she said, breathlessly, "Oh, Dios mio!"

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that. He probably knew I'd be expecting him at Sandy Lake and headed into Tucson instead to lay low for a while. Why, he's probably holed up at the hotel right now," said John to reassure her, but partly to reassure himself as well.

"Will you go to look for him?" questioned Victoria, with concern.

"Yes, if he hasn't show up before then, I will leave at first light. I have no one to send right now and besides, it will soon be dark. So, even if we don't like it, we will have to wait until then." Victoria looked up at her husband. She was worried, but she trusted her husband to do what was best.

Victoria awoke later, feeling something was amiss. She reached a hand out and felt John's side of the bed. It was cold; where was her husband? The bedroom was engulfed in darkness; it had to be very late. She sat up and reached for the oil lamp that sat on the side table. Fumbling around blindly, she located the box of wooden matches and taking one from the box, struck it and lit the lamp. It cast a warm glow over the room and she walked over to the armchair and retrieved her wrapper which lie across it. She shrugged it on and cinched it tightly around her small waist. She lifted the lamp and turned to look at the clock on the mantle: 12:30! She turned back to look at the bed and discovered that John's side had not even been slept in. She padded softly over to the door, opened it, and made her way down the stairs to search for her husband. John was sitting on the sofa, staring into the flames of the fireplace. He seemed to be a thousand miles away.

"John?" said Victoria, and John, who hadn't been aware of her presence in the room, jumped as if he'd been shot.

"Victoria," he said. "Why aren't you asleep? Is something wrong?

"I awoke to find you missing. What is the matter? Are you worried about Blue?"

"Some," he admitted, but hurried on to reassure her. "It's silly because I'm sure he's just fine. Probably a little scared to face me yet, is all."

"Maybe a little," said Victoria, with a small smile. She had witnessed many father-son disagreements in her short time at the High Chaparral. "And what about you, my husband? Will you not come to bed?"

"In a while," said John. "I'm not tired right now." Victoria gazed at her husband and nodded her head. She knew John's moods well and she knew he needed to be left alone with his thoughts. She leaned over, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and said, "Good night, my husband. I just know in my heart that Blue is all right."

"Sure, he is," said John and smiled at her. "Good night, Victoria." She turned to climb the stairs and John watched after her until she disappeared from sight. He turned to stare wearily into the flames of the fireplace. His mind was awash with a myriad of troubled thoughts and he knew that there would be no sleep for him that night. It was quiet, too quiet, there in the darkness of the still house. John's whispered question cut through the stillness like a knife. "Blue...where are you, Boy?" But there was no answer to soothe a father's aching heart and guilt-ridden conscience. Unbidden, his mind began to drift back through the years, back to the beginning of his son's life.

**Chapter 7: John Reflects**

John and Annalee had hoped and prayed for a child, but for the first five years of their marriage, it was not to be. Annalee had been with child three times, and three times those pregnancies had been cut short. Although none of the pregnancies had ever progressed far enough along, Annalee grieved over each as if she had lost a living child. John was helpless to comfort his grief-stricken wife and each lost opportunity took another piece of Annalee's soul. Although their love was strong, the marriage went through a very rocky patch. John wanted children, that was true enough. What man didn't hope for at least a son to carry on the family name. He loved Annalee, though, and if God decided not to bless their union with children, then Annalee was enough for him. His wife, however, felt she had failed him and nothing he could say to her would convince her that she, and she alone, was more than enough to make him happy.

Then, in the fifth year of marriage, Annalee got pregnant for a fourth time. John steeled himself for another loss which he knew would be devastating for his beloved wife. But, miracle of miracles, Annalee was able to carry this child to full term, and in October of 1853, their son was born. He was a beautiful, healthy child with a fine set of lungs. They christened him William after John's father and his mother called him Billy, for short. His father dubbed him Blue after a blue tick hound he had owned as a young boy. John had loved that old hunting dog and had made a vow to himself, at that early age, that if he ever had a son, he would nickname the boy, 'Blue.' Time had not prevailed upon him to change his mind, either. So, while Annalee was not crazy about her firstborn being named for some old dog, she was helpless to dissuade her husband. In the end, to compromise, the little boy came to be called 'Billy Blue.'

John would never forget the first sight of his wife and child together. It had been a very difficult delivery and Annalee was spent, but radiant with pride. She wept tears of joy and John, who rarely showed emotion of any kind, broke down and wept along with her while their baby slept peacefully between them. John and Annalee were thrilled with their new son and considered him to be a gift from God. They had never planned for him to be an only child, however, for they did not want him to grow up lonely or spoiled. But, life has a funny way of making other plans for people. After Blue was born, they had tried to give him a little brother or sister, but like those earlier pregnancies, she was unable to carry those babies to full-term.

One day, Annalee left two-year-old Billy Blue with his father and told John that she and her mother were riding into town to select some much needed dress goods. What she did not tell John was that she had screwed up her courage to go see Doc Schroeder and seek his advice. Doc Schroeder had examined her and then told her that there was something in her make up which would not allow her to carry her pregnancies to full-term. The kindly old man had looked at her over the top of her glasses and told her that it was really something of a miracle that she had given birth to one healthy child. And, while he didn't entirely rule out the possibility of a second miracle, he gently told her that she and John had better accept the fact that little Billy would probably be their only child.

Annalee came back from town and John couldn't help but notice that she had hugged their child almost desperately to her. Little Billy, uncomfortable in his mother's tight embrace, whimpered and wiggled from her grasp and ran to his father. John was concerned, but Annalee merely grew silent, turned and walked into the house. He also noticed that his wife had brought no packages back with her, but wisely kept quiet. He watched her for the rest of the day without her taking notice. Something was bothering his wife that she wouldn't talk about and it bothered him. Shortly after their son had been put to bed for the night, he found her in their bedroom crying as if her heart would break. When he confronted her, she broke down and confessed to him what the doctor had said. He had taken her in his arms and reassured her that she and their son were enough to make him happy for the rest of his days. They had always considered their only child to be precious, but after the doctor's prognosis, he became doubly so, especially to his mother.

John stirred restlessly on the sofa and remembered that little boy of so long ago. Blue had been a beautiful child with his blonde-white curls and big sky-blue eyes, framed with long, dark lashes. Looks could be deceiving, though, and while little Billy had the face of an angel, he could behave like the very devil himself when crossed. John had had to be strict with the boy to compensate for Annalee's tendency to want to spoil their only child. As far back as John could remember, Blue had always been a willful child who knew his own mind and could throw a devil of a tantrum when unable to get his way. John had put his foot down early on, though, and the tantrums soon tapered off. Yet father and son still had plenty of go-rounds in the ensuing years.

Blue had been as inquisitive as he was headstrong. John remembered the years before the war when his tiny son, with his shirttail hanging out, would follow him around, dogging his heels and forever lisping out a million questions, like "What you doin'?" "Where we goin'?" "Who's dat?" and, of course, "Why? Why? **WHY?**" John had always believed that the only way a person could learn anything was to ask questions, but he had to admit regretfully, that there had been many times when his patience had grown painfully thin.

John also remember when he had to go away and leave his little family. In 1861, the Great Civil War had broken out and John, being an Army Captain, was called up and he had to leave his wife and child behind in Missouri. He came back as often as he could in those four terrible years, but it was never for long and the visits were few and far between. He had left a chubby little child of seven and had returned to a wiry young man of eleven, who, for a while had resented his father's presence in their lives. In John's absence, Blue had come to consider himself the man-of-the-house and his mother's protector. When John returned, there were a few adjustments that had to be made. Yet life settled back into a comfortable routine and John and Blue became pretty good friends who enjoyed each others company. The little seven-year-old that John had left behind had not been big enough to be a lot of help around the farm, though to his credit, the child had tried his hardest. The eleven-year-old son that John returned to was a great help to his father and, for several years, everything proceeded fairly smoothly. John was hard-pressed to say just when all their troubles began, but when Blue entered his teens, things changed between the two of them. Blue had always been a fairly obedient child, yet all of a sudden, he began to question his father's rule, decisions, and ways of doing things. John, being an ex-military man and an officer to boot, was not used to being challenged and viewed his son's behavior as nothing less than insubordination. He did not take it well, to put it mildly, and poor Annalee soon found herself stuck in the middle between the two people she loved most in the world. Now, here it was nearly seven years later, and he and Blue were still having the same problems. Only now, Annalee was lost to him forever, and Victoria, who viewed Blue as a son, had stepped into Annalee's old role as mediator between father and son.

Remembering Annalee, John knew that he could never forget his first wife's face. It was true that he had several photographs of her, but even if none existed, he would only need to look at his son to be reminded of the boy's mother. John had never kidded himself; Blue had never resembled him either in looks or in temperament. He had his mother's sensitive nature and only needed to smile, and John would see Annalee, for Blue had inherited his mother's gentle smile. Thinking of Annalee, John felt a sharp twinge of remorse. He believed that he had let her down by not being a better father to their son and that he owed her more, so much more than he had been able to deliver thus far. John knew that if he had been a better father, then Blue would not be 'God Knows Where' right now and, perhaps, lost to him forever.

John shook his head sadly. "Where had the time gone?" How was it possible that the curious small boy who once dogged his heels would be twenty-one in six short months? He had wanted his son to grow up and take on a man's responsibilities. Yet, on the other hand, John still treated him like a little kid. Blue's frustrations were clear to him now. Blue had been expected to take on man-sized consequences for his actions, yet he was seldom allowed to make a man's decisions. His father had always insisted on doing that for him. Shortly after John had brought Victoria back to the High Chaparral as his wife, she had accused John of wanting to keep Blue as a boy so as not to risk losing him. John had scoffed at this at the time, but now he could see she made a valid point. It was hard, though, so very hard. How was he supposed to treat Blue like a man when his only experience, up to now, was dealing with a boy? It was tough making the transition. John knew that no matter how old he himself and Blue grew, he would always look at his son and see a tiny baby, sleeping peacefully in the crook of his mother's arm. A lot of emotions had come to the surface at that first glimpse of his son, the strongest being the urge to protect this tiny new life he had been entrusted with. John knew it was going to be difficult to pull back and let Blue do his own protecting, but he had to let him try. He remembered how overprotective he had felt Annalee was of Blue, and they argued over that fact quite frequently. John had never been a great believer of mollycoddling children. A coddled child was a soft child and a soft child grew to be a soft adult. Life on the frontier was a hard life, fraught with danger, and a weak person would never survive for long out here. So it was with some surprise that John discovered the same tendency in himself towards over-protectiveness. Was it because Blue was his only child? John was unsure.

John remembered the first time his son had run off after a bitter fight with his father. It was right after John had brought Victoria home to the High Chaparral. He now supposed that he could have broken the news about his marriage-of-convenience to his son a little more tactfully than he had. However, he thought of Blue as a boy who had no right to question his father's decisions. Blue had not argued, in fact he had not said one word. He had simply turned and walked away. The argument took place shortly afterward in the bunkhouse where Blue had gone to get away from both his father and his father's new wife. John had admonished his son to grow up and bitter words were exchanged. Then, in the heat of the moment, John had said hateful words to Blue, words that he wished he could have snatched back as soon as they were out of his mouth. By then, though, it was too late. Blue had really believed that John meant those terrible words and, feeling unnecessary in John's life, had fled the ranch and no one knew where he had gone. Blue had left at the worst possible time; Cochise was on the warpath and had vowed to kill the white man. John had been worried sick for his son and his brother, sensing this worry, had tracked down his nephew after two, long nerve wracking days. Buck had brought Blue back and John thought that he would never again be as relieved as he was when he learned of his son's return. He had walked down to the gate where Blue stood in wait for the ensuing battle with Cochise. John had simply stood looking at his son. No words were exchanged; John's heart was too full. There had never been a more welcome sight than that of his son at that very moment.

The battle between the High Chaparral and the Apaches began in earnest soon afterward. It was a bitter, bloody battle with many casualties on both sides. After it had ended and the Apaches had retreated, John figured himself to be rather fortunate to have escaped relatively unscathed. That was until Pedro called him over behind one of the wagons. John then saw a sight that made his blood run cold and his heart nearly stop. His only child lay on the ground, looking so pale and near death. Blue had caught an Apache arrow in the back just like the one that had killed the boy's mother such a short time before. John had called Buck over and, together, the two men carried his son up to his room. Victoria began to tend to Blue's wound and there had been a couple of tense hours of worry for John. Had he brought his family to the High Chaparral just to watch the both of them die? It had nearly killed him when his wife died and now the thought of losing their son nearly devastated him. A picture rose to his mind of two lone wooden crosses standing in the side yard and he desperately shook his head to clear his mind of the morbid scene. Had he done the wrong thing bringing his wife and son to Arizona Territory? He didn't know, but he was certain that if he lost Blue liked had had lost Annalee, it would surely kill him. The thought that he had said such terrible things to his boy only two short days ago was causing him crippling feelings of guilt. What if Blue should die thinking John had meant what he'd said to him in the bunkhouse? Then a miracle happened, and Victoria announced that Blue would pull through. Shortly afterward, Blue had regained consciousness and the first person he addressed had been his father. John had gone weak with relief and had shed a tear of gratitude that his son's life had been spared.

And still, that lesson hadn't been learned on either side and, once again, Blue had fled the ranch after a fierce argument with his father.

John thought back to that morning which now seemed a lifetime ago. Their argument, his and Blue's, now seemed silly in retrospect. Blue had wanted to go to Sandy Lake and, really, there had been no reason not to let him go. When John had seen that his son made preparations for the trip prior to consulting with his father, however, John had seen red and forbidden Blue to go. John felt that he had worked hard to get where he had and he was not about to hand over the reins of control to a kid who was still wet behind the ears, with a lot of maturing left to do. He had overreacted, though, and his headstrong stubborn son made his angry departure. John now saw that the fault lay on both sides. The High Chaparral would one day be his son's – that was what he had worked for, strived for, in all those early lean years. Now was the time to let the boy grow up and make his own decisions. It would not be an easy thing to do as John had always been in control, but it needed to be done. If he expected Blue to stop acting like a kid, then he had to stop treating him like one.

John's anger at his son's disobedience had cooled since that morning. When Blue returned, John would sit him down and calmly, calmly talk with him. He stared into the flames of the fire and desperately tried to push down the one nagging thought that kept threatening to surface...that is if he returns.

**Chapter 8: Blue Reflects**

The campfire was a small oasis of light in a desert of darkness. Blue stared, unseeing, into the fire and the flames threw flickering shadows upon the steep walls of the canyon. As his companion lay dreaming, Blue was drawn backwards in time.

He and Pa were always fighting, always arguing, always at odds with each other. It seemed the tone for their relationship had been set early on, at the very beginning of Blue's life, even before. Blue had been nicknamed by Pa after some old hunting dog John had owned as a boy. It was so embarrassing, being named for some old hound! What had Pa been thinking about, anyway? Whenever anyone asked him about the origin of his interesting nickname, Blue simply pointed to his eyes and the stranger was satisfied. Blue lived in fear, however, that some stranger might ask Pa or Uncle Buck the reason for Blue's nickname before Blue could head them off at the pass. He was extremely grateful that he had been blessed with such an unusual shade of blue eyes. He thanked God that he hadn't been born with brown eyes instead; it saved him a lot of painful explanations.

When Blue was very small, he had thought it extremely amusing to be nicknamed for a dog. But as he grew older, the novelty had worn off. He thought back to a time when he had been around fourteen years of age. He had been sitting at the table of the kitchen of their Missouri farmhouse, complaining, once again, to Ma after yet another run-in with Pa. He had, once again, asked his mother why Pa had nicknamed him for a dumb, old dog. He had never really expected an answer to his question as Ma had never bothered to answer that particular question before. So, it surprised him when she had asked him, "Well, Billy. Why do you think your Pa nicknamed you Blue?"

Blue, who had been leaning on his hand and feeling sorry for himself, rolled his eyes heavenward and replied disgustedly, "Because he likely wanted someone to fetch and carry for him, I suppose. Someone he could kick around and keep down, probably." Annalee had been washing dishes and she turned to face him.

"No, William," she had said. "That is not the reason your father called you Blue." Blue sat up and took notice. She had called him William, this was serious! Annalee continued on, "And I never want to hear you say that again! I will tell you the reason your father calls you Blue, though I doubt you'll believe it for you have inherited your father's stubborn streak. You see, your father loved that dog and he recalled him with a lot of fondness. When he was a boy, that dog was the most special thing in the world to him and you are the most special thing in the world to him now...there, I've said it and I won't speak on it again!" And, with that, his mother turned back to the dishes.

Blue stared at his mother's back, mouth agape, but never said another word. He had been skeptical of her explanation then and he was still skeptical, even now. Ma had never lied to him, though, perhaps she was just mistaken.

Blue sighed; it seemed he and Pa had always been fighting with each other. "No, that wasn't entirely true." When Blue was little, he had thought the sun rose and set on John and had followed him everywhere. It had been lonely, growing up on the farm with only dogs and horses for company. Pa had let him help around the farm although Blue now suspected that at his young age, he had probably been more of a hindrance than a help to Pa. John had been patient with Blue, though, and went on walks with him and took him wading in the creek and answered his many questions whenever time allowed. But, Pa had gone away to war in 1861, when Blue was seven. Blue hadn't really understood where John had gone, and for some time he followed his mother around, a little lost soul who asked plaintively for Pa. There were the occasional visits from John when he was granted leave to return. His brief visits confused Blue, however, and were upsetting to both him and Ma when he had to leave them again.

Blue was one of the youngest students at the one-room schoolhouse in town when his father left for the war. It was good for him to be with children for the first time in his life. Except for church and Sunday School, however, the early mornings, evenings, and weekends were him and Ma only, as they both had to work hard to keep the farm going. Although Blue was only a child, Annalee relied on him for his help. The farm made no profit, but they were able to keep food on the table and the money John sent back to his family allowed them to purchase a few extras.

In 1865, when Blue was eleven, the War between the States ended and John returned to Missouri and his family. At first, Blue was happy to have his father back, but soon he resented John's presence. Blue had been the 'Man of the House' while John was gone and was none to happy to return to his former role, a child. He had had his way around the house for four years and any attempts by John to discipline his son were met with deep resistance and bitter resentment. After a few tense moments, they were able to resume their former roles and work things through, becoming fast friends once again. Life was good until Blue entered his teens. He simply hadn't understood some of John's ways of doing things. Blue had merely thought that there might be faster, easier, and better methods for working the farm. He really hadn't meant anything by questioning some of John's methods; he was just trying to understand, is all. If only Pa had taken the time to help Blue understand, but no, Pa had jumped down Blue's throat every time Blue had opened his mouth to voice an opinion or ask a question of his father. It had really been frustrating for Blue. All his life, growing up, Pa had always told Blue that the only way a person could learn anything was to ask questions. Yet, when Blue hit adolescence, the rules suddenly changed. Pa seemed to take every one of Blue's questions as a personal challenge. They began to argue over nearly every little thing and poor Ma was kept busy trying to keep peace between the two men in her life.

Now, nearly seven years later, he and Pa were still going at it tooth-and-nail. Only now they had no one to try and smooth things over between them, now that Ma was gone. "No, that wasn't completely true," thought Blue. Victoria tried her hardest to make peace between father and son and a goodly number of times had stood up to John on Blue's behalf.

Blue thought of his mother and an ache went through him. She had been dead, killed by an Apache arrow, nearly six months ago. Blue still grieved for her, though he kept it to himself. At the mention of her name, Blue always felt a pang of sadness go through him. "Does the pain ever go away?" he wondered. He didn't know as he had never lost anyone close to him before. It shamed him now to admit it to himself, but one of the very first things that had run through his mind at learning of his mother's death was the thought that now he and Pa were left alone together. He had been unsure of how the two of them could ever make it alone together without the benefit of Annalee's gentle intervention.

But now there was Victoria, Blue's stepmother, who was doing her best to keep peace. Blue had to grudgingly admit that he liked her though he was just beginning to think of her as his stepmother, and not just his father's wife. Blue had deeply resented Victoria's presence at the High Chaparral for quite a while. In fact, her appearance at the ranch had sparked a bitter quarrel between Blue and his father. John had married Victoria not more than a week after Annalee's death. He had brought her back to the ranch and expected Blue to accept her without question. He had been taken aback at Blue's reaction, however. Blue had packed up and moved out to the bunkhouse as he couldn't bear to be in the presence of either John or his new wife. They disgusted him. John had followed him out to the bunkhouse and a fierce argument had taken place. John had said some hurtful things to Blue, turned his back to him, and left the bunkhouse. Blue had felt sick to his soul and dropped to the bunk in shocked disbelief. He had buried his head in a pillow and cried. Blue, feeling unwanted and unneeded in his father's life, had fled to the hills despite the threat of Cochise. His uncle, worried for him, had caught up with him two days later. After some strong persuasion from Uncle Buck, the two had returned to the ranch just steps ahead of marauding Apaches. Blue, after settling in, had gone down to the gate to help fight off the impending attack from Cochise and his braves. John, after learning that his son was safe, had walked over to Blue. He had said nothing, merely stood looking at his son. Blue had glanced over at his father, then quickly looked away, and the look on John's face had been difficult for Blue to fathom.

Blue thought again of the day when Buck had found him. He remembered what his uncle had said to him that day. Buck had told his nephew that Blue's trouble was he wanted everyone to figure him, but he didn't want to figure anyone else. Blue had deeply resented this little bit of unsolicited advice at the time, but now he was surprised to admit that Uncle Buck just might have a point. Pa seemed to have trouble figurin' Blue and Blue sure had trouble figurin' Pa. He had to admit to himself that he hadn't always tried very hard to see Pa's side of their arguments. Blue chewed on the inside of his bottom lip as was his habit when deep in thought.

He remembered the terrible battle that had taken place between the ranch and the Apaches shortly after Buck had brought him back to the High Chaparral. The sound of the Apache drums and chants had sent shivers down Blue's spine and he still heard them in his nightmares. Everyone had been kept busy trying to stave off the attack from Cochise. Blue remembered being jumped by one brave and Blue, heart in mouth, had struggled with the Apache over Blue's gun. It had went off, killing the brave in the struggle. Blue was frozen in shock for a moment or two, then jumped up and ran behind the overturned wagon to fire again. Then, all of a sudden, bright circles had danced crazily in front of his eyes and everything had gone black. Blue had caught an arrow in his back. He had awaken in his bed to find his father crying over him. Blue had been deeply stunned; he had never known John to cry over anyone or anything either before or since. Why, he hadn't even seen Pa shed as much as one tear over the death of his mother and he remembered wondering whether his father had ever loved his mother. Blue had never been sure that his father loved him, either, but from that moment on, when he'd seen his father's tears for him, he knew that Pa loved him. His uncle had confirmed it for him and seemed surprised that Blue had never guessed it before. The fact was that John had never been a demonstrative person and he never would be. Blue knew that their relationship would never be perfect, but then what father-and-son relationship ever was? Blue had never observed one single father and son who didn't argue on occasion. He and his Uncle Buck got along like a house afire, but Blue suspected that if Buck had a son, even he and his son would get along about as well as John and Blue did. It seemed ever the way of the world. Blue knew that he and his father could and would work things out; given enough time.

Matt had said that John's footsteps would be hard to follow in and Blue knew this fact to be true. He also knew that he was capable, given half the chance. He had been lucky enough to be given a solid foundation in life. Blue thought of something else Matt had said. It was the truth, Blue had never gone to bed hungry unless sent there without supper for some transgression. He also had always had his basic needs provided for and, like most children, had taken that fact for granted. He remembered the first time that had been brought home to him just how lucky he was. It was just a couple of months ago, when Chad Stoner had been bought, wounded, to the High Chaparral by his father, a lousy hair-hunter. John had been disgusted by Stoner's so-called occupation and had run him off. Chad, however, had been allowed to stay and recuperate. Blue remember the first time Chad had come downstairs to join the family for supper. Chad had cleaned himself up and was wearing a new set of clothes, borrowed from Blue. They had all been happy to see him up and about and were surprised to see the big change in Chad's appearance. They made a fuss over him, but Chad had seemed uncomfortable in their presence and had dashed back upstairs to the safe haven of his room. They had all stared at each other in confusion and remarked on how strange his behavior had been. Victoria chided them and then asked them how they thought Chad was supposed to feel, comparing their lives to the one he had led with a father like Jacob Stoner. They had all looked shamefaced and had grown quiet, every last one of them. Blue had been the quietest one of all. It had all come rushing at him, just how lucky he really was. Sure Pa could be strict with him, but he had always provided a good home for his son. Blue had wanted to look over at his father and thank him that day. He had opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. Pa would want to know what Blue was thanking him for and it would be too hard to put into words. So Blue had simply said nothing and the moment passed. Now he wished he had at least tried.

He also remembered Stoner's demonstration of his love for his son. John, Blue, Chad, and Stoner had been penned down by Apaches that would let them go free if they gave up Stoner to them. John had refused to do this, however, and Blue had disagreed with John's decision. Stoner was just a lousy hair-hunter, better he be given to the Apaches than they all die in vain. They didn't have to give him up, though. Stoner, wanting to spare his son's life, had given himself up of his own free will. He had walked up the rise to Soldado and had bravely taken an arrow in the chest. Blue had been stunned, even a dirty hair-hunter could love his son and sacrifice for him. Pa had been right now to give him up, though Blue didn't believe it at the time. Blue would never forget the feeling that washed over him when he saw Chad bending over his father's body. He also knew, deep down, that John would have done the same for Blue as Stoner had done for Chad. Difference was, John had lived his life in such a way that he didn't have to and Blue thanked God for that the day he saw Chad Stoner mourn for his father.

Blue sighed and looked over at Matt who continued to sleep soundly. His troubles seemed so minor compared to Matt's. He thought back to the argument he'd had with Pa early that morning which now seemed an eternity ago. In retrospect, it did seem kind of childish to go rushing off willy-nilly this morning, but Pa had made him so **MAD**! Pa was always telling him that one day that hot head of his was going to get him in trouble. Blue was ready to admit, for once, that maybe Pa was right. Blue had never been one to wait around, though. He would wade right in, fists swinging, at the first sign of trouble. Pa and Uncle Buck and even Mano, all exasperated him when they preached, "Wait...think first!" Pa blamed a lot of Blue's rashness on the impetuousness of youth, but was forever telling his son, "Boy, if you want to get any older better learn to practice patience!" Blue tried, but usually forgot to heed John's warning. He knew that he was far too quick to reach for his gun at the first sign of trouble and his hand had been stayed many times. The little lesson Pa had taught him when Blue had tried to draw Kid Curry out had made a lasting impression on Blue. When John had found out what Blue had tried to do, he backhanded him and knocked his son to the ground. Blue had been shocked speechless for a second or two. Pa hadn't laid a hand on him in a long, long time. He resented Pa's harsh treatment of him until Doc Henry told him that John had reacted in that way out of fear of losing Blue. Still, all in all, after that little incident, Blue was a lot less likely to reach for his gun without sizing up his opponent first. Thinking of Doc Henry, Blue laughed to himself. John hadn't practiced what he preached to Blue and had tried to face down the doc after he had attempted to flee with Victoria's jewels which had served as Blue's ransom after a kidnap attempt. Blue hadn't thought that it was a good idea for John to face down Doc Henry as he knew the doc's ability with a gun, first-hand. Pa hadn't listened to him, as usual, and Blue had feared for the worst. The gunfight never came off and Doc Henry was allowed to head for Tombstone to meet up with his friend, Wyatt Earp. Blue could still remember the sick look that had washed over Pa's face when he discovered that he had nearly taken on the infamous gunslinger, Doc Holliday. Blue smiled to himself as he remembered Ma's often repeated words, "Like father, like son."

**Chapter 9: Things Could Be A Lot Worse**

Blue asked himself what he was doing out on the desert in the middle of the night instead of asleep in his own bed. He had a home, a nice home, which many people would give their eyeteeth for. He had simply been kidding himself when he said he wanted no part of the High Chaparral. Right now it belonged to John, but Blue had a pretty big stake in it and one day it would be his. He would go back home and fight for it. He would prove himself to his father and would not allow John to drive him off again in foolish anger.

Blue knew that part of the problem with John was that Blue had been daydreaming a lot lately. Even though he had not meant to be, he had been a danger both to himself and to the ranch. John had called him on it and he had every right. He would do the same with any of the other ranch hands or Buck or Mano. Blue knew that he wasn't just any other ranch hand, though, and John expected a lot more from his son than he did his help. It didn't seem fair, but one day the ranch would belong to him. Most of the High Chaparral's hands lived from paycheck to paycheck and would never have a place to call their own. John was right to expect more from Blue. The High Chaparral would one day be his and Pa just wanted Blue to be able to take over when the time came. Blue, after a night of reflection, could now see John's side of the argument, as well as his own. If he wanted Pa to stop treating him like a kid, then he would have to stop acting like one.

Blue sat staring into the fire which had long since gone cold. He was unaware that the first rays of dawn were beginning to creep over the eastern horizon until he felt someone kick his foot. He looked up in surprise to find Matt standing over him. "Hey, why didn't you wake me? You let me sleep the night through," said Matt.

"Huh?" said Blue, coming back to the present. "Oh, I wasn't sleepy. I had some things to think on...Say, Matt, did you have your heart set on going to Sonora?"

"What? Well, no. Why, what else did you have in mind," asked Matt.

"What would you say to livin' near Tucson? There's a job waiting for you at the High Chaparral if you're of a mind to take it," offered Blue.

"Huh," blinked Matt, in confusion. "Why sure I want it, but is it yours to give?"

"Yes," said Blue, adamantly. "It is. You saved my life last night, so it's the least I can do for you. I'm grateful to you, Matt. Pa says a man has to make a decision and stand by it, come what may. Well, I've made my decision and I'll stand by it. Pa will just have to understand, is all. I'm going home, Matt. It's there I belong and not Sonora. I need to go back and talk to Pa...I just hope he's out of the mood to chase me all over the High Chaparral!"

"Excuse me?" asked Matt, not comprehending Blue's last remark.

"Oh, nuthin'," replied Blue with a lopsided grin. "Just a private joke, is all...Come on, Matt. Let's go home."

And, with that, the two boys broke camp and saddled their horses. They mounted up and headed northward for home. Home and the High Chaparral.

The End


End file.
